New Beginnings
by Elensaa
Summary: AU. No HBP. Having had enough of the Dursley's abuse, Harry runs away to New Beginnings. What will it be like when he goes back to school? Can he cope without his new friends? Will he be understood? HD SLASH. Warning: Abuse, rape, cutting.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything from Harry Potter. I do, however, own New Beginnings, and I also own Brad, Mike, and Joanya.

**Summary:** AU. Having had enough of the Dursley's abuse, Harry runs away to New Beginnings. What will it be like when he goes back to school? Can he cope being away from his new friends? Will he be understood? H/D SLASH. Warning: rape, abuse, cutting.

A/N: Yes! Another one! But I've been working on this one for a while, and Love of Sanity is very short, it's almost done. So, I decided to post this now, rather than later. Please review, I'd love to know what you think!

On with the show!

**Ch. 1.**

Harry blinked as he woke up. Rolling over, he stopped the alarm and surveyed his room. All of his trinkets had been packed up, ready for him to return to Hogwarts later that day. The room was still bright, though, as posters and drawings were plastered all over the wardrobes.

Harry sighed and lay back in bed. He didn't particularly want to leave. He thought about the events of the summer.

Before he'd left school, Dumbledore had informed him that he to stay at the Dursleys' all summer. A chill had gone down Harry's spine at hearing that. Longer at the Dursleys' meant more beatings, more rapes, and more self-harm than usual. As a precaution, he got Madame Pomfrey to fix his eyesight before he left, ensuring that Vernon wouldn't be able to break his glasses. That had happened once, and he'd gotten glass stuck in his face.

Harry had dutifully stayed at the Dursleys' until his sixteenth birthday, when Vernon's 'present' was to let Dudley join in the raping for the first time, making Harry feel even more ashamed. As soon as his relatives had gone out for the day, Harry had packed his trunk and left. He'd barely reached the town centre when his strength had given out, and his weakened body had collapsed in the middle of the street.

Luckily, two boys and a girl had come to his rescue. All victims of abuse themselves, they recognised the signs in Harry. They helped him to a nearby facility called New Beginnings. It was a small block of flats especially built for teens that had run away from abusive homes.

The downstairs of the building housed a common room, a soundproofed music room, staff room, councillor's offices, and most importantly, an infirmary. The top three floors housed the flats.

When Harry had been patched up, he was given a key to flat nine on the third floor. His trunk had already been placed there by one of the boys who had helped him. Brad, a tall, sandy haired and muscular boy, and his two friends, Mike-a dark haired, blue eyed boy, and Joanya-a brown eyed girl with choppy, layered hair, coloured pink on top and purple underneath, had visited every day Harry had been in the infirmary, and the four had become fast friends.

Brad, Mike and Joanya showed Harry where to pick up the benefits arranged by the staff that all the teens had. They took him shopping for new clothes and other belongings. They walked him to his first few sessions with Angelica, his red haired councillor. They brought a kitchen knife to him every night and stayed until he had finished cooking before taking it back, until his cutting was under control, and he was allowed to buy his own. They went with him to the tattoo parlour when Angelica gave him permission to get some. They held his hands as he told Simon, the resident solicitor he was pressing charges against his family. Mike spent a night with him to prove that sex wasn't always painful, as part of his counselling. Harry loved them. They supported him, and he supported them. They had their own stories, and had told him them. He knew he wasn't alone in his pain, and it comforted him.

Today, he would be separated from that comfort, and he wasn't sure he could cope. He didn't want to tell Ron and Hermione. At least not yet. He couldn't. They wouldn't understand.

They didn't know what it was like to have so much pain inside that you had to slice your skin open and let the pain flow away with the blood. Joanya knew. She'd been a cutter herself.

Ron and Hermione didn't know the feeling of dirtiness and worthlessness that accompanied rape. Mike did.

They didn't understand the physical and mental pain being beaten caused. Brad, Mike and Joanya knew.

The three of them knew all of his secrets. Sure, Angelica also knew about his home life, what and where his tattoos were, his talent for the guitar, singing and song writing, his style and tastes. But she didn't know he was a wizard. She thought he was going to a school for the gifted. Brad, Mike and Joanya knew the truth. Harry couldn't and wouldn't hide it from them.

A door slammed down the hall, and what sounded like a war erupted. Harry rolled out of bed and left the bedroom. In the small hallway of his flat, Harry unlocked his door and opened it, peeking out curiously. Bonnie and Sam were having a pillow fight. Harry withdrew, grinning. That was one of the best things about living at New Beginnings. As long as you abided the few rules (no drinking/smoking/drugs, no vandalism, be back by eleven-phone with good reason if it's impossible for you to meet curfew, attend all counselling sessions), the staff didn't care what you did. They were there to watch out for you, to let you live the childhood none of them had had. The staff worked shifts, and there were always four people on duty, and counsellors as well during the day. New Beginnings was twenty-four hour work.

As Harry sat at his breakfast bar eating a bowl of cereal, he surveyed his pale yellow living room. It wasn't much, but it was nice. The large windows, spanning most of the far wall, wrapping around the corner had deep yellow curtains, and the carpet was a dark green. He had a paler green couch on the left wall with a TV and DVD player on a stand facing it. In the corner stood his guitar in its case, and opposite that, on a low table under the window, was a large stereo. The walls were bare, as they weren't allowed to stick things on them, but his kitchen cupboards were, like wardrobes, plastered in posters, pictures and photos.

Sighing, Harry slipped off his stool, turning around and taking the two steps to his sink, where he washed the pots and poured the last of the milk down the sink. He'd made sure that this morning's cereal would be the last of the food in the flat, and it had been the last portion.

Wandering through the door on his left, Harry crossed his hallway and entered the bathroom. After cleaning his teeth and showering, he went into his room and dressed in a pair of dark green cargos, a thin long sleeved white top, and a light green t-shirt over the top. It was still warm out, being early autumn, but Harry needed to hide the self-inflicted scars on his left forearm, and the dagger tattoo on his right.

He made his bed and went back into the bathroom, where he used his damp towel to dry his toiletries before putting them in his wash bag and chucking the towel in his nearly empty laundry basket. He needn't worry about it smelling. Joanya had promised to come in once a week and clean, she'd wash it for him.

Going back into the hall, Harry threw his wash bag into his trunk and locked it carefully. Striding into the living room, he picked up his guitar and the bag he'd packed for the train. He glanced around once more, sadly. He'd miss this place, despite the fact that he'd be back for Christmas, if not before for the trials. This place was his until he turned eighteen.

A knock on the door had the raven boy heading back into the hall. Opening the door, Harry was met with the sight of a boarder shorts and t-shirt clad Mike grinning at him. There was a feather stuck in his hair from the on-going pillow fight down the hall that Tom had now joined in on. Mike lived on the other front corner of the building and had had to pass through the feather storm to reach Harry's door.

"Nine o'clock Harry!" he said. "Taxi'll be here soon."

Harry nodded and shoved his feet into his scuffed, mud-stained trainers. He and Mike each grabbed an end of his trunk and Mike carried his bag while Harry took care of his instrument. Outside the door, Mike passed Harry his keys, which he'd taken off the hook by the door. Harry put down his guitar, leaning it against his legs while he shut and locked his door. Pocketing his keys, Harry picked up the guitar case, and the two boys walked halfway down the corridor, passed through the door to the stairwell and carefully made their way down two flights, pushed through the door at the bottom, and emerged in the main hallway.

The first thing Harry saw was Joanya standing in the doorway to Angelica's office, talking to the councillor. The girl was wearing an ankle length brown gypsy skirt, a pale pink sleeveless top, and brown, heeled sandals. A multi-coloured shell pendant hung around her neck and her loose hair framed her face. She had a carrier bag slung over one of her scarred forearms.

Angelica, wearing her usual smart black trousers and fitted t-shirt noticed the boys first.

"Harry, could I have a word before you go?" she motioned to her office and Harry nodded.

Stepping into the familiar room, leaving his belongings in the hallway, Harry shut the door behind him.

"I just wanted to say, if you need me, just write to me, I know you're not allowed a phone at school, so that'll have to be the best we can do," Angelica said. "Remember also, if you're uncomfortable with a situation, leave it. I know you're worried about telling people what's happened, but just breathe deeply and try to stay calm. Take your time telling them, let it be on your terms, not theirs."

"I will," Harry smiled. "Thanks Ang."

"I'll send you the occasional note in your friends' packages, just to see how you're doing," the councillor replied. "And Simon will get in touch over the trials."

"Ok."

They left the office to find Brad holding the discarded end of Harry's trunk.

"Taxi's here," Joanya called from the front door.

"Well, let's go," Brad answered.

Harry picked up his bag and guitar, heading for the door, signing out on the way. Once the four exited, Harry turned and gazed up at the building, focusing on the windows of his flat.

"I'll miss this place," he muttered.

"And it'll miss you, too," Mike patted him on the back.

"You'll be back sooner than you think!" Brad grinned, slipping into the front seat.

They were an odd group Harry thought, squashed between Mike and Joanya in the back seat.

One would think that with her brightly coloured hair, Joanya would be wild, but in actual fact, she was a caring, mothering type. Brad was the wild one, though he dressed dark and dangerous in his black baggy pants and mesh tops. The three piercings in each ear and the scar on his cheek didn't help much. Mike, in his surfer clothes looked cool and laid back, but he was the liveliest person Harry had ever met, and performed the craziest stunts. One of which was climbing out of his window, streaking down the street and climbing back in the window at midnight last week during a game of truth or dare. As for Harry, he dressed like any normal sixteen-year-old boy, but didn't act like one. He was too quiet. Mostly. He could be quite vocal at times, with the right crowd about.

By just looking at the four, you wouldn't think that they would be such good friends, but they defied the norms. They were abnormal, and they showed it.

At the station, they paid the fare, and unloaded Harry's stuff from the boot. They chatted non-stop on the train to London, and before they knew it, they were loading a cart at King's Cross Station.

Arriving at platforms nine and ten, Harry turned to his friends. It was eleven o'clock and he had fifteen minutes to say goodbye and get on the train.

Joanya reached into the carrier bag and pulled out a plastic tub.

"I know you'll eat junk on that train," she said, wagging a playful finger at him. "But you better eat this first Harry James Potter!"

Harry laughed, taking the box and putting it in his bag.

"I will, I promise."

"We got you this for you, too," the girl held out the carrier to him.

"Don't open it until you get homesick!" Mike put in.

"Ok," Harry carefully wrapped the bag around the gift-wrapped object, and slipped it into his bag.

Joanya stepped forward and hugged him tightly.

"You take care of yourself," she whispered.

"I will," the raven boy assured her.

After a moment, she stepped back, and Brad took her place.

"I know you're worried about that Snape guy and the Malfoy kid," he said. "But just ignore them if they start anything."

Harry nodded against the taller boy's shoulder. Mike stepped forward next, drawing Harry into his embrace.

"Don't forget to write," were his parting words.

"You'll be swimming in letters by the time I get back!" Harry grinned.

Leaving his friends, he went to lean on the barrier, and with a final wave to his friends, he slipped through, pulling his luggage cart with him onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

A/N: Well, what did you think? Please tell me! Love,

Len


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own anything from Harry Potter. Also, the songs belong to Ani DiFranco.

A/N: Hey! Thank you all so much for your reviews! The response to this was amazing! I've never written an abuse fic before, so I was a bit nervous. However, you all seemed to like it, so I guess it's all ok! Well, since I got such a good response, I've decided to upload chapter two sooner than I thought I would! Hope you all enjoy!

If anyone is curious, the songs belong to Ani DiFranco. 'Swim' is from the album 'Educated Guess', and 'Letter to a John' is from 'Out of Range'.

**Ch. 2.**

Harry navigated his way through the crowd towards the train. Lifting his trunk onto the train he spotted a group of red heads further down the platform and immediately dismissed going down there. Mrs. Weasley would only smother him, and despite the night spent with Mike and the closeness with his friends, Harry was still nervous about touch.

Turning his back so he wouldn't be so easily recognised, Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and picked up his guitar, before dragging his trunk down the train in search of an empty compartment.

To his luck, he found one relatively close. Stepping in, he put his guitar and bag on the seat before lifting his trunk into the rack. Sliding the door closed, he sat down and opened the guitar case. Carefully laying the instrument over his knee, he reached into a compartment of the case and pulled out a pencil and a sheaf of music paper. He was working on a new song. He had the lyrics and half of the notes; he just needed to finish it.

Sticking the pencil behind his ear, he began playing what he already had, singing the lyrics in his head. As he started working on a new bar, the train pulled slowly out of the station. After a few moments, Ron and Hermione opened the carriage door. Harry stopped playing immediately.

"Harry James Potter! Where have you been all summer?" Hermione demanded, dropping her trunk and putting her hands on her hips.

Harry sighed and calmly put his guitar and music away. By the time he'd finished, Ron had put his and Hermione's trunks in the rack, closed the door and sat opposite Harry.

"I don't want to go into the details now," Harry started. "But it wasn't safe for me at the Dursleys' anymore. I had to leave. Don't worry, I was safe where I was."

"Safe?" Hermione shrieked. "If that's so, why was Dumbledore worried? He had the whole Order looking for you! No-one knew where you were!"

"Yeah mate, why didn't you write?" Ron asked.

"I couldn't," Harry replied quietly. "Hedwig's dead."

It was true. His owl _was_ dead. But she didn't die of natural causes. More like uncle Vernon causes.

"Oh Harry," Hermione softened finally. "I'm so sorry."

"Mate, I didn't know," Ron whispered. "I'd have written myself, but Pig's been ill, and Errol died a few months ago."

"It's ok," Harry answered.

"So," Hermione sat down. "Why can't you tell us why it wasn't safe at the Dursleys' anymore? Dumbledore seemed to think it was safe enough for you."

Harry shut his eyes.

"Please Hermione," he whispered. "I will tell you. Soon. Just not now. I can't."

"What's so bad you can't tell us, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Ron can't you just give it a rest?" Harry snapped. "I told you I'm not ready to tell you yet!"

His two oldest friends studied him suspiciously for a moment, but they couldn't push the issue, as they had to go to the prefects' meeting.

Tipping his head back, Harry sighed. He missed the others. He snorted. He'd left them not twenty minutes ago, and he already wanted to be back with them.

Reaching into his bag, he pulled out the gift they'd given him. Unwrapping the carrier bag, he stared at the parcel. Would Mike class this feeling as homesick? Deciding he didn't care, Harry tore off the paper.

The present was a scrapbook. Opening it, he saw a photo of Joanya, accompanied by a few lines of her neat, rounded handwriting.

_Hi Harry!_

_We thought you'd like this so you can keep a bit of us with you all the time. I'm glad you decided to run away this summer. If you didn't, we'd never have found you, and that is a sad thought._

_Chin up and look after yourself, Honey-Baby! I'll see you soon! Miss you!_

_Love,_

_Joanya._

Harry smiled at the nickname. Joanya had one for everyone. Mike was 'Cake Face' (Harry was sure there was a story behind that), Brad was 'Sugar' and Harry was 'Honey-Baby'. It was soothing really, having such a loving nickname.

On the next page was Mike's spidery scrawl and his own picture.

_Hey Cutie!_

_Maybe we should have done a book like this for us, so you'd be here with us? Well, too late now!_

_Don't let yourself get down! You'll be back home soon! And if you feel sad, take Uncle Mike's advice: run down a corridor, screaming and waving your arms above your head. That'll cheer you up, because everyone will be laughing at you and laughter is infectious! Trust me, I know!_

_Hurry home, Pie!_

_Mike._

Harry smiled. A couple of weeks ago, Mike had been a bit down and had run through New Beginnings, screaming and waving his arms. His antics had everyone laughing, which cheered Mike right up.

On the third page, Harry's green eyes landed on Brad's picture and his precise, spiky penmanship.

_Harry,_

_I'll miss you. We all will. Take care of yourself. We all can't wait to see your pretty face back at New Beginnings._

_Remember, if anyone starts anything, ignore them and walk away. Don't let anything get you down._

_Brad._

A man of few written words, Brad always got his point across. The next page was dedicated to Angelica's words of wisdom, and reminders to write if he needed her.

The pages after that were taken up by photos, and even a few pictures drawn by Mike, the artist of the four. Along with fantasy artwork, there were portraits of Brad, Joanya, a self portrait, and one Harry was embarrassed to see, of himself as he slept the morning after he and Mike had had sex.

Finishing with the scrapbook, Harry locked and silenced the compartment, pulled the blinds down and once more, got out his music and guitar. Finishing his composing, Harry cleared his throat and prepared to play the entire song for the first time.

Playing the introduction, Harry took a deep breath and began to sing.

You keep telling me I'm beautiful 

_But I feel a little less so each time_

_Your love is so colourful_

_It flashes like a neon sign_

_But I finally drove out where_

_The sky is dark enough to see stars_

_And I found I missed no one_

_Just listening to the swishing of distant cars._

Relaxing into the music, Harry moved into the chorus and through the rest of the song.

And I hope I never see 

_The ocean again_

_Pushing and pulling at me_

_As I go deeper and deeper in_

'_til I'm so far from my shore_

_So far from what I came here for_

_I let you surround me_

_I let you drown me_

_Out with your din_

_And then I learned how to swim._

_I was floating above myself_

_Watching her do just what you wanted_

_Poor little friendly ghost_

_Wondering why her whole house feels haunted_

_I told myself I was strong enough_

_That I had plenty of blood to give_

_And each elbow cradled a needle_

_But listless and faint ain't no way to live._

_So I hope I never see_

_The ocean again_

_Pushing and pulling at me_

_As I go deeper and deeper in_

'_til I'm so far from my shore_

_so far from what I came here for_

_I let you surround me_

_I let you drown me _

_Out with your din_

_And then I learned how to swim._

_You keep telling me I'm beautiful_

_But I feel a little less so each time_

_Your love is so colourful _

_It flashes like a neon sign_

_But I finally drove out where _

_The sky is dark enough to see stars_

_And I found I missed no one_

_Just listening to the swishing of distant cars._

Harry smiled. The song, 'Swim', had absolutely no relevance to anything, but it had come to him and stuck one day. The first song he'd written, 'Letter to a John', however, had relevance. Closing his eyes, Harry began to play and sing.

Don't ask me why I'm crying 

_I'm not gonna tell you what's wrong_

_I'm just gonna sit on your lap_

_For five dollars a song_

_I want you to pay me for my beauty_

_I think it's only right_

'_cause I have been paying for it_

_all of my life._

_I'm gonna take the money I make_

_I'm gonna take the money I make_

_I'm just gonna take the money I make_

_And I'm gonna go away._

_We barely have time to react in this world_

_Let alone rehearse_

_And I don't think that I'm better than you_

_And I don't think that I'm worse_

_Women learn to be women _

_And men learn to be men_

_And I don't blame it all on you_

_But I don't want to be your friend_

_I'm gonna take the money I make_

_I'm gonna take the money I make_

_I'm just gonna take the money I make_

_And I'm gonna go away._

_I was eleven years old_

_He was as old as my dad_

_But he took something from me_

_I didn't even know that I had_

_So don't tell me about decency_

_Don't tell me about pride_

_Just give me something for my trouble_

'_cause this train's not a free ride_

_I'm gonna take the money I make_

_I'm gonna take the money I make_

_I'm gonna take the money I make_

_And I'm gonna go away_

_Don't ask me why I'm crying_

_I'm not gonna tell you what's wrong_

_I'm just gonna sit on your lap_

_For five dollars a song_

_I want you to pay for my beauty_

_I think it's only right_

_Because I have been paying for it_

_For all of my life_

_Now I just wanna take_

_I'm just gonna take_

_I'm gonna take_

_And I'm gonna go away._

Finishing the last few notes, Harry noticed the door was rattling. Sighing, he stood up, lifting the charms and opening the blinds to see his friends.

"Why'd you have the door locked?" Ron asked after opening said door.

"I was playing my guitar and wanted to be left alone," Harry shrugged.

"How long have you played the guitar?" Hermione asked, sitting down.

"I started learning in Primary School," Harry replied. "There was this one teacher who didn't follow Dudley's rules, and to help me escape him on the playground she let me come to her classroom. She played guitar and she taught me. I picked it up again this summer after I left Privet Drive, after all, I couldn't have a guitar at my relatives'."

"Why not?"

"Dudley would have broken it," Harry lied, knowing that more likely, Vernon would have broken it, hitting him with it.

Ron opened his mouth, but Harry was saved from another question by a voice from the corridor.

"Anything from the trolley dears?"

Ron and Hermione both got a pumpkin pasty and some sweets, whereas Harry just bought a handful of chocolate frogs.

"You should eat something proper Harry," Hermione said disapprovingly.

"I'm going to," Harry pulled the tub out of his bag while his friends stared. "My mate gave me this, this morning and made me promise to eat it. Not that I had any intention of doing otherwise. Jo's the sandwich queen. She makes the best butties in the world."

Harry ignored his friends' shocked faces and pulled the lid off the box. Inside lay a bottle of water, an apple, a pack of crisps and a tinfoil package. Pulling that out first, Harry opened it and peeked inside.

He grinned when he saw a chicken a lettuce with black mayonnaise filling on the soft wholemeal bread. Joanya had made him his favourite.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Ron and Hermione finished pulling on their robes as the train pulled into Hogsmeade station. Harry, who hadn't bought any new school materials, stood waiting for them. Leaving their belongings on the train, Harry having cast a protective charm on his guitar, they made their way to the carriages.

The Welcoming Feast was the same as usual, with the exception of Dumbledore requesting that Harry go to his office after the feast.

All too soon, Harry was standing before the gargoyle, guessing sweets.

"…Honeydukes Best Chocolate…Liquorice Wands."

The gargoyle sprung to life and leapt aside. With a sigh, Harry stepped onto the staircase and let it carry him up to the Headmaster's door. He knocked and entered at the command to do so.

"Harry, please sit down," the aged wizard pointed to the chintz armchair before his desk. "I assume you know why you are here?"

"It's because I ran away this summer," Harry replied, sitting.

"Yes," Dumbledore said gravely. "Harry I am very disappointed in you. What you did was very dangerous and irresponsible. What would have happened if Voldemort had found you? I though you understood the importance of staying at Privet Drive."

"I do understand sir, and with all due respect, Voldemort didn't know I'd left the Dursleys'," Harry replied. "Sir, if you would, I'd like to explain why I did what I did. But I beg you not to speak until I finish, it's very hard to talk about."

Dumbledore nodded, the usual twinkle had left his eyes.

Harry drew his legs up into the chair, holding his ankles as he took a deep breath. He always curled up when talking about his abuse. It was a defence mechanism. Closing his eyes briefly to compose himself, he opened them again and began to talk.

"For as long as I can remember, the Dursleys have hated me. Starving me, locking me in the cupboard, calling me names. You know all about that. But there were things you didn't know. Things I was too scared and ashamed to tell anyone.

"When I was little, it stared with a slap here and there, an occasional punch. It got worse as I got older. By the time I was eight I was being beaten every other day for no reason.

"It stayed that way until my first Hogwarts letter came. Vernon was so angry. Dudley and Petunia had gone out and he dragged me out of the cupboard. He was shouting that if the freakiness couldn't be starved or beaten out of me, he was going to see if he could fuck it out. That was when he raped me for the first time."

By this time, Dumbledore was staring at him in open horror, but Harry, green eyes glazed from viewing the memories of his terrible past, couldn't see him.

"It carried on when I came back from Hogwarts," Harry continued. "Always the same, every summer. I'd be starved, beaten nearly every day, raped two or three times a week. No one ever saw my injuries. He was careful never to hit me in the face. I could cover everything else up with clothes. He knew I wouldn't tell, I was terrified of him. I still am.

"I was fourteen when I started self harming. It was a way to control the pain. At first, I used anything I could find; a razor blade I stole from the bathroom, scissors in the bottom of Dudley's wardrobe. Eventually, Sirius gave me a knife as a present and I used that. It wasn't too bad during school; I could forget what happened to me at home. I still cut occasionally though, after nightmares. Vernon knew, of course, I think it amused him.

"This summer was worse than ever. Vernon raped me at least once a day. He didn't have to worry if Petunia was home. I'd stopped screaming by the time I was thirteen. On my birthday, he gave me an extra special 'present'. After he'd finished beating and raping me, he called Dudley in and let him have his way with me.

"That was the last straw. I completely fell apart and couldn't take it any more. When they all went out the next day, I packed and left.

"I'd made it to the town centre when I collapsed. Luckily, three teens that were out shopping were near me, and they helped me. They took me to the place they live at.

"It's a facility called New Beginnings, built for teens who've run away from abuse. It's quite a big building. Four stories high. The top three levels are devoted to flats for the kids. The ground floor's more practical. It's staffed twenty-four seven, so there's a staff room, counsellor's offices, a solicitor's office and an infirmary. That's where they took me.

"When I was better, I was given a flat. It's mine until I turn eighteen. I also started counselling sessions. Every kid has two one-hour sessions a week, but they often run over. There're group sessions as well. I went to the one for self-harm, which I've stopped now.

"I've had a lot of counselling this summer for the beatings a raping. My counsellor has been helping me work through the feelings it's left me with.

"Angelica's taught me coping strategies for stressful situations and started me on something she calls touch therapy. It's to help me become comfortable with contact. At first, I had to touch my friends. Just little touches, on the arm or shoulder. Then they did the same to me. It built up until I could stand more. I can be touched by anybody now, but I still flinch sometimes. I think I always will. The last part of the therapy combined with the rape counselling, to help me with being touched sexually. My friend Mike helped with that.

"About two weeks after I arrived at New Beginnings, I had a meeting with Simon, the solicitor who works with us. We talked, and I've pressed charges against all three Dursleys. They're expected to come to trial soon.

"And, well, that's it. Why I ran away."

Harry glanced at the ancient wizard, who was freely crying.

"Oh, Harry," he whispered.

He came around his desk and cautiously reached out. Harry stood and accepted the offered embrace.

"I should have known," the headmaster mumbled. "You never wanted to go back, I should have realised something was wrong."

"Please don't blame yourself sir," Harry whispered. "You couldn't have known. I never told anyone. I was too scared. Angelica says that happens to most abused children. They hide it until it becomes too much. This wasn't your fault, or mine. My family are the ones to blame. They're sick, and they need to be punished. Soon, hopefully they will be."

Dumbledore pulled back.

"Harry I am so proud of you," he said. "You are so brave. I could not suffer through what you have and stay sane. Yet here you stand. You have a remarkable strength."

Harry smiled slightly.

"Thank you sir."

"Now, I hope you are aware that I am going to have to inform the staff, in case there are any problems?" Dumbledore became serious again.

"Yes sir, I knew that," Harry replied. "But please don't tell any of the students, Remus or the Weasleys. I haven't told Ron and Hermione yet. I don't think I could tell it twice in one day. And I think it would be best if I told everyone myself."

"Of course, Harry," Dumbledore nodded. "But I suggest not waiting too long to tell them. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger would be most upset that you felt you couldn't tell them. Besides, I hate to think of the Howler Molly will send when she finds out I knew and didn't tell her!"

Harry laughed.

"Now, off to bed with you. It's the first day of classes tomorrow."

At this, Harry sobered.

"Sir, I'm afraid I couldn't go to Diagon Alley this summer," he said. "I've no books and I need new robes."

"Don't worry," Dumbledore replied. "You can send off an order for books in the morning, and I'll have Madame Malkin visit tomorrow evening to measure you. For now, you can borrow the spare books, and forgo the robes."

"Thanks sir," Harry smiled. "Night."

"Goodnight Harry."

As soon as the door shut behind the raven boy, the headmaster sat wearily at his desk, sorrow making him appear older than he actually was. With a heavy heart, he picked up a quill and wrote a note, duplicating it with magic, and sending it off to his teachers, informing them of the urgent staff meeting for the next morning.

A/N: Well, what do you think? Whew! My fingers hurt now, and I've gotta go make a curry for my friend and I to eat. Please review, I'd really like to know what you all thought of this chapter. Love,

Len


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own anything from Harry Potter.

A/N: Hey! I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this! I really love writing this! Thank you for all the reviews! Well, here's the third chapter! Enjoy and please review!

**Ch. 3.**

The next morning, Harry woke up before any of the others in his dorm. He took a quick shower and pulled on a pair of jeans and a black long-sleeved top. Heading back into the dorm, he found his friends just waking up.

"Hey mate," Ron sat up. "Didn't hear you come in last night."

"That's because you were snoring your head off!" Harry replied to the laughter of the rest of the boys. "Now hurry up! I'm hungry!"

He sat on his bed and pulled his trainers on, waiting for his red haired friend. Fifteen minutes later, a much more awake Ron with damp hair emerged from the bathroom. Shoving his large feet into his shoes, he pulled his robes on over his faded t-shirt and jeans.

"Ready?" he asked picking up his bag.

Harry nodded and stood, his bag much lighter than Ron's, containing only quills, ink and parchment. They had just reached the door when Neville called out.

"Hey Harry, what about your robes?"

"I haven't got any. Dumbledore's getting Madam Malkin to measure me tonight. He said it's ok for me not to wear any," he replied.

Together, he and Ron made their way down to the common room, where Hermione was waiting for them. She greeted them warmly, though her eyes lingered on Harry's clothes. He knew she thought he would get into trouble for not wearing robes.

The three of them wandered down to the great hall. Breakfast was at first, a pleasant affair, but it turned sour towards the end.

Professor McGonagall was making her way along the table handing out the timetables. After she'd given out the seventh year cards, she returned to the sixth years. The strict teacher reached Harry last, and he saw that she wouldn't meet his eyes as he told her the subjects he wished to carry on with. He knew she was upset, he could see it in her face, and wanted to say something to comfort her.

"There you go Potter," her voice trembled as she held out his timetable.

As he took it, he whispered, "It's ok Professor."

At that, the stern witch burst into tears and practically ran out of the great hall, leaving several stunned students behind, staring at her.

'_I hope I don't have that effect on everyone,'_ Harry thought.

Quickly, he glanced down at his timetable.

"Come on," he said to Ron and Hermione. "We have Charms now. We don't want to be late."

He left the hall swiftly, his friends scrambling to follow him.

"What was that about?" Ron asked as they walked upstairs.

"What was what?" Harry feigned innocence.

"That thing with McGonagall!"

"Nothing," the raven boy replied firmly.

"It can't have been nothing, Harry," Hermione had joined in. "The Professor started _crying_, for goodness sake!"

"It was nothing," Harry repeated. "Now please _drop it_!"

His friends quietened, though he knew they were still curious and would likely ask again.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Charms passed well, with Flitwick acting normally, for which Harry was thankful. Herbology, on the other hand, was a disaster. Sprout's eyes had filled with tears as soon as Harry entered the greenhouse. Several students went into hysterics and had to be sent to the Hospital Wing for a calming potion, as they were terrified that the teachers were crying. Luckily though, no one realised that Harry was in the near vicinity both times. Only Hermione and Ron knew the queer behaviour displayed by their teachers was caused by Harry's presence. They didn't ask again, fearful of losing Harry's friendship.

After a quick lunch, Harry retreated to the library to write a letter to his three muggle friends, in his free period. Ron and Hermione sat nearby, Hermione reading, Ron doodling.

_Hey guys!_

_I thought that I'd let you know that I got back to school safely. Ron and Hermione nagged me, as predicted. Told you they would! Malfoy didn't come to torment me, which was a blessing, I don't think I could've handled it. Especially on a train with limited space-nowhere to hide._

_I had to go to Dumbledore's office to explain last night, as I thought I'd have to. He got really upset. I think he blames himself, though I asked him not to._

_School's been bad so far. Dumbledore had to tell the teachers, obviously, but I didn't think they'd take it this bad. My head of house started crying at breakfast because I told her I was ok when she gave me my timetable, my Herbology teacher cried too, as soon as I entered the greenhouse! I don't know what Snape's going to say. Probably sneer and say I'm lying to get attention, and get out of a punishment for running away._

_I miss you all already! Thanks for the scrapbook (yes, I opened it on the train, but I missed you!) I can't wait to come back._

_Got to go, got Potions next._

_Love,_

_Harry._

_P.S. I finished 'Swim'!_

Finishing his letter, Harry stuffed it into a muggle envelope and addressed it to Mike's pigeonhole at New Beginnings. Packing his bag quietly, he stood up.

"I'll meet you at Potions, I'm just going to take this to the Owlry. Leaving his friends staring after him, Harry left the library. Striding through the corridors, he took a moment to think in the silence. Ron and Hermione were understandably confused, and worried about him, but they were being too pushy. They weren't making it any easier for him to tell them, in fact, they were making it harder. He knew Dumbledore was right, though, they would be upset that he couldn't confide in them about his past.

Reaching the Owlry, Harry sighed as he failed to hear the swish of feathers, and feel Hedwig's comforting weight on his shoulder. She had been his very first friend. She was the only one who had known about Harry's home life until this summer. More than that, she'd witnessed it. She'd seen Vernon and Dudley beat him. She'd sat on his bed and gently nibbled his fingers, allowing him to stroke her feathers and cry on her after Vernon had raped him. She'd clicked her beak disapprovingly as he cut himself. Yes, Hedwig was his first friend, and probably his greatest.

'_Damn Vernon!'_ he cursed in his head. _'To kill her, and like that, too! She never did anything to him! It was just to hurt me! He's like Voldemort!'_

Not wanting to dwell on the past, Harry called a school owl down to him and attached the letter to its leg.

"Take this to the post office at Hogsmeade, please," he requested as he took the owl to the window.

The tawny hooted at him and took off. He watched it go for a moment, and then made his way down to the potions classroom, meeting up with Ron and Hermione outside the door. He was just in time, as he leant against the wall with Ron, the door to the classroom opened, and Snape's silky voice floated from inside.

"Enter."

Hurrying inside, the three Gryffindors took seats on a bench nearer to the back, the better to avoid Snape's insults. However, it seemed that the dour man had other ideas.

"How many of you have come to be in my NEWT class I will never know," the potions master began, shooting a malicious look, not at Harry, but at Ron. "I normally only accept those who achieved an O at OWL level, however, since you are nearly all a bunch of dunderheads, only two students managed to achieve the required level. Because of this, the Headmaster forced me to accept those with E's, so as not to disappoint the two students, who both wished to continue with my subject.

"These next two years will be the hardest of your life. Potions is one of the most complicated NEWTs that there are, and many of you will find yourselves unable to complete the two years. So, be prepared to say goodbye to many of your classmates.

"The first year of NEWT level potions consists of coursework in preparation for your final year. I will, naturally prepare an exam for the end of the year, but there are no external examinations, as there are in Charms as a course break.

"During the second year of this course, there will be two sets of external examinations. These will combine with your coursework in order to give you a NEWT grade. These exams will consist both of practical and theoretical papers. All practicals in the second year will be individual, and far more complicated than you have yet attempted.

"However, we must now concentrate on coursework. This year, you shall be working with partners, as the potions brewed this year, are ones that even potions masters such as myself have difficulty brewing alone.

"Each potion will naturally have a paper to complete alongside it, detailing not only the brewing process, but also it's potency and effects. Also, for many potions, you will be asked to experiment, to find ways of improving the brew. These experiments will also be logged.

"I will assign the partners to you now, and you will work with them for the remainder of the year. I will not hear complaint about the partnerships, as I have placed you with a student either of higher or lower ability than yourself, and with whom I believe you may work with well, and make improvement.

"The partners are such: Granger, Finch-Fletchly; Zabini, Finnegan; Macmillon, Weasley; Malfoy, Potter; and Patil, Patil. Move to your new seats now!"

Glumly, Harry gathered his belongings and moved to Malfoy's table, seating himself on Zabini's freshly vacated stool. The blond next to him offered him a sneer, but didn't dare argue with his head of house's arrangement. Ignoring the Slytherin, Harry turned his attention to Snape.

The dark man glared out at them all and began to speak again, "Today we will start to brew to Braxen Solution. It was created, and named, after Joshua Braxen in seventeen eighty-three."

Harry quickly pulled a piece of parchment out of his bag, along with a quill and some ink, and began to take notes. He desperately wanted to pass potions this year, to stand him in good stead for seventh year. He was going to prove to Snape that he was competent in this class.

"Braxen developed this particular solution after he was captured by a rogue wizard, poisoned, and thrown in a pit with a cobra, whose venom reacted with the poison, with the effect of giving a slow, agonising death. Braxen, though in terrible pain, managed to find a cure, with the help of his wife, who was herself a gifted potioneer.

"Today, you will start the brewing process, and I shall give you a checklist of what to include in your report. The instructions are on page two-hundred and fourteen. Begin."

Next to him, Malfoy brought out his brand new text book, and began to flip through the pages. Harry raised his hand. Snape's black eyes swept over him, and the professor gave a slight nod, retreating to the store cupboard.

"Potter!" Malfoy hissed from beside him. "I will not do this by myself! Admittedly, the first stage can be achieved alone, I will not carry you through this course! Get your book out!"

Remembering Brad's advice, Harry grit his teeth and ignored the boy, lowering his hand, knowing Snape had understood his unspoken request. Just as Malfoy prepared to hit Harry, the teacher came back into the room and moved towards their table.

"You're in for it now!" Draco whispered savagely, believing Harry was to be told off for slacking off.

To his surprise, though, Snape merely placed a battered copy of that year's text on the table in front of the Gryffindor.

"Here you go Potter, give it back when your own arrives," the potions master said. "And five points to Gryffindor, you were the only student who bothered to take notes. Although my words were more or less printed in the book, it was a wise decision. Keep it up, and you may just manage to pass this class."

Stunned, Harry blinked up at him.

"Thank you, sir," he breathed. He'd just been complemented by Severus Snape, given points by him too! Harry wondered if it was the end of the world, or Snape's way of apologising for misjudging him and treating him badly after hearing about Harry's life.

"Potter…Snape was nice to you!" Malfoy breathed. "Has the world gone mad?"

Harry was once more ignoring the Slytherin, focusing instead, on the potion. The Baxen Solution looked fairly complicated, but Harry didn't think it was too bad as a first task for the year. The first stage was to marinade mandrake leaves in a simple concoction. Harry glanced up at the clock. There was half an hour until the end of class, but that would be enough time.

"Ok Malfoy," he said. "Let's start."

The two boys worked relatively well together, with an unspoken agreement not to fight, as both wanted to pass the class. Near the end of the lesson, however, things went wrong. Malfoy was adding the ingredients that they'd chopped, sliced, ground and juiced into the cauldron, as they'd decided to get the preparation done before starting the marinade itself. Next to him, Harry was slicing the mandrake leaves, when the knife slipped, cutting into his finger.

Harry hissed and jerked upright. A drop of crimson gathered on his fingertip and fell delicately to the floor. Harry watched it, almost in a trance. The pain, although sharp, felt so _good_. It was like he was truly in control for the first time in months. He could dictate when to hurt. Harry longed to drag the sharp, cold blade to his skin again and again, watching as the blood flowed from the wounds that stung so sweetly.

The part of Harry that was still rational knew he had to fight against the temptation to hurt himself. Cutting was dangerous, it wasn't healthy. No one was hurting him any more, and he'd had counselling. That was a much more healthy approach to dealing with his problems.

Suddenly, the words of Peter, the New Beginnings counsellor who conducted the group sessions on beating cutting, floated through his mind.

_"If you're ever in a situation, say in the kitchen, and you accidentally cut yourself, and you feel the temptation to do it again, immediately give the implement to the nearest person."_

The nearest person was Malfoy. Harry knew he had to give the knife to him, but when he looked down at it, he couldn't move. He could only stare at the knife, which he was unconsciously holding in a grip that was more like a lover's caress.

"Potter?" Draco asked, staring at Harry, confused. He'd heard the boy hiss, and seen the cut on his finger, but now the Gryffindor was staring at the knife with glazed eyes, and a hungry, tormented look on his face.

Hearing the Slytherin calling his name broke Harry out of his reverie. Quickly, before he could be overwhelmed with the urge to cut, he slammed the knife down on the table and slid it over to the blond.

"You take it!" he stuttered. "I-I can't…"

He backed away from the table, giving Draco room to slice the leaves. But he soon discovered he still was not free of the temptation, as he accidentally backed into Ernie and Ron's table, knocking their knife to the ground.

Wrenching his eyes away, Harry glanced around the room, his eyes unconsciously seeking out the knives of all the other students. It would be so easy to steal one, they were all unattended, and Harry had stolen before when he was young. It had been the only way to feed himself sometimes. Peter's words came back again.

_"If you are still feeling the temptation after giving away the implement, and are in a position to lay a hand on another sharp object, leave the area until you feel able to control your urges."_

Harry knew he needed to go, but he was rooted to the spot. His eyes were fixed on the knife on the Patil twins' table. He could swipe it easily if he just walked past. No one would know except him.

"Mr. Potter, is there a problem?" Snape's voice cut through his haze.

Suddenly, Harry regained control over his body, and without a second thought, without pausing to gather his things, he ran.

A/N: Well, what did you think? Please review, as I would like to know whether I brought Harry's turmoil across properly. Anyway, bye for now! Love,

Len


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything from Harry Potter.

A/N: Hey! Back I am! I'm so glad! It's been ages and I missed you all! I also missed the fics I was following! Oh well, plenty to catch up on! Here's the next chapter! I hope you enjoy it! Also, I would like to say thanks to everyone who reviewed while I was away. It's been really great to come back to such a fantastic response! This is the first time that I've written anything like this, so I'm really happy that it is appreciated! Thanks again!

**Ch. 4.**

As soon as the door slammed behind the Gryffindor hero, the students erupted into whispers about Harry's strange behaviour and rapid exit. Ron and Hermione hurried to each other and had a heated exchange, wondering what was wrong with their friend. Snape whirled on Draco.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"I'm not sure…" Draco was stunned. "He was slicing the mandrake leaves, and cut his finger. He got a funny look on his face, so I called to him and he gave me the knife. He backed away and went into a kind of trance. That's when you spoke to him, and he ran."

Snape quickly realised what had happened. At that morning's meeting, Dumbledore had spoken of Harry's cutting. The boy obviously felt tempted to self-harm, and had run away to pull himself together.

'_Smart boy.'_ Snape thought.

"Mr. Malfoy, I believe that you are capable of completing this stage alone, correct?" he asked.

"Yes sir," the young Slytherin replied.

With a sharp nod, Snape turned to the rest of the class, realising that they were still talking.

"Get back to work!" the professor roared, stalking back to his desk.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Running through the dungeon corridors, Harry wondered where he could go. He couldn't return to the dorms; Dean's razors were in the bathroom, and he couldn't visit Dobby; there were knives in the kitchens. The temptation was still too strong for him to be near anything sharp.

Reaching the entrance hall, Harry burst through the castle doors and sprinted to the lake, throwing himself down on the shore. For a moment, he sat panting, before he hauled himself up to peer at his reflection in the water.

The boy looking back at him was healthy at a glance, but if one looked harder, they would see the weariness in his eyes.

"See Harry? You're healthy," he said to his reflection. "You don't need to hurt yourself any more. There're no bruises or cuts, no burns. No one's hurting you. You don't need to get rid of any pain. There's none to get rid of. Potions was an accident. You need a blade."

But he could still feel the cold metal passing through his skin. The sweet release as the blood trickled out. It could end the pain that the memories caused.

"No!" Harry cried, wrenching up his sleeve. "Look at these scars. Cutting myself only adds to my body's pain! I don't need to do that! My body is screwed up enough as it is. I can do other things to feel better, to get rid of the pain. I don't need a blade. I don't need it. I _don't_ need it!"

He sat there for almost an hour, staring at his scars, convincing himself that it was bad to self-harm, and that he didn't need to do it. The craving to self-harm faded slowly, and Harry found himself more in control. He knew he could now trust himself around sharp objects, but he also knew that Ron and Hermione would be looking for him to demand an explanation. He decided to avoid them until he'd done all that he needed to do. Talking about his past was upsetting enough, but after what had just happened, he would end up exhausted.

For another five minutes, Harry sat gazing out across the lake, before an owl dropped a letter in his lap. Recognising Dumbledore's writing, he picked it up to read.

_Harry,_

_Madam Malkin will be arriving in an hour to measure you for your robes. You are welcome to come for tea and sandwiches in my office beforehand._

_A. Dumbledore._

Standing, Harry tucked the letter in his pocket and wandered back to the castle. Tea with Dumbledore seemed a much safer option than venturing into the Great Hall.

Using all the shortcuts and secret passages he knew of, Harry soon found himself giving the password to the gargoyle, having only run into three students, none of which knew about his abrupt exit from Potions. Knocking, he entered at the command and sat in the offered armchair.

"Well Harry," Dumbledore passed him a plate of sandwiches. "Today has been rather eventful."

"Yes, it has," Harry accepted the plate.

"I hope it hasn't been too stressful for you," Dumbledore said gravely.

"Not really," Harry replied thoughtfully. "I knew why the teachers were acting strange, the other students were rather scared. Though, Potions turned out to be quite difficult for unexpected reasons."

"Yes, Severus mentioned it," Dumbledore nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "I've got it back under control now. I'm more worried about later. Ron and Hermione will want an explanation."

"Harry, I understand how difficult your past must be to discuss," Dumbledore said. "But I think it best for you to tell them. They are worried about you, it is not fair to them to hide it from them."

"I know," Harry conceded. "I realised earlier that I have to tell them tonight, I just need to prepare myself for it. Though, I'm not going straight back to the dorm after this, I'm going to go and apologise to Professor Snape for running out of class."

"You don't have to, Severus understands," Dumbledore smiled.

"It's still polite," Harry insisted.

"You truly are extraordinary," the old wizard shook his head.

They ate in silence for a few minutes.

"Harry, I have something for you," Dumbledore broke the peaceful quiet. "I know of your penchant for wandering the castle at night when you need to think."

Harry choked on his last bite of sandwich, and took a gulp of pumpkin juice to ease his coughing.

"So I have written you a note," Dumbledore continued. "It gives you permission to be out after curfew. I must ask you not to wander around too often, however. Please only use it when you feel it necessary to clear your mind, or practise your guitar in a classroom."

"I will, thank you sir," Harry carefully folded the note, and put it into his pocket.

A knock came at the door, and Madam Malkin came in. With a friendly smile, she conjured a stool for Harry to stand on, and soon a tape measure was taking his measurements. In five minutes, it was finished.

"I'll try to get them here in the next two days, but it could be longer," Malkin said to Dumbledore. "I have a rather difficult gown to complete for Narcissa Malfoy. She ordered it this afternoon, and wants it ready in two days. It's going to be taking up most of my time, I'm afraid."

"That's not a problem," Dumbledore assured her. "Whenever they're ready, just send them along."

Nodding, the witch bid them goodbye, and left.

"Thanks for tea, sir," Harry smiled. "But I think that I should go find Professor Snape now. The sooner I see him, the sooner I see Ron and Hermione, and I think it's better to tell them before I get too tired."

"Of course, Harry. You are welcome," Dumbledore nodded.

With another smile, Harry left.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Harry waited outside Snape's door. He'd just knocked and been told to wait.

"Enter," Snape's silky voice reached his ears, and he cautiously opened the door and walked in.

"Potter!" the professor seemed surprised to see him. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit? Do you want to collect your belongings? There are in the cupboard in my classroom. Potions is your first class tomorrow, I thought it easier to leave them there."

Harry moved to stand in front of the desk.

"I just wanted to apologise for running out of class," he replied. "It won't happen again."

"You did the right thing," Snape surprised him by saying. "I hope that if you do ever need to run out again, that you do. That is not permission to leave whenever you feel like, however. I must say, though, that I misjudged you. You were not pampered as a child, you most certainly are not spoiled, and you are very different from your father."

Harry smiled, knowing that this was the closest to an apology Snape would ever give him in regards to his past behaviour towards Harry.

"Thank you sir," he said, turning to leave.

He'd just reached the door when Snape spoke again.

"And Potter? Try not to be so clumsy in future."

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

When Harry arrived back at Gryffindor Tower, everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at him. He made his way through the silent room, hearing the whispering start behind him. Pausing outside the sixth year dorm door, he took a deep breath. He'd seen Dean, Seamus and Neville down in the Common Room, meaning that Hermione and Ron had kicked them out, ready to speak to Harry alone as soon as he returned. Pushing the door open, he entered.

Sure enough, Ron and Hermione were sitting, waiting, on his bed.

"Harry! Thank goodness! Are you ok?" Hermione asked. "Were where you?"

"I was with Dumbledore," Harry replied.

"What happened in Potions mate?" Ron asked. "We were worried."

"Just a minute," Harry grabbed his pyjamas. "I want to be comfortable first."

Heading into the bathroom, he changed and cleaned his teeth. Checking that his sleeves were completely rolled down, and neither his scars nor his tattoo could be seen, he headed back into the dorm and climbed onto his bed, pulling a blanket around his shoulders.

"You know that the Dursleys hate me, right?" his friends nodded. "Well, I never told you this, but Vernon also used to beat me…"

By the time he had finished telling the terrible story of his life, Hermione was silently sobbing, and Ron had gone as white as a sheet, staring at Harry as though he'd never properly seen him before.

"Oh Harry!" Hermione launched herself onto him, holding him tightly. "You must have been so scared, and hurting so much! I can't believe that you never told us! I know that you thought he'd kill you if you told, but you must realised that you were safe at Hogwarts!"

"I did," Harry admitted. "But I was still scared and ashamed. A wizard, beaten by a muggle. I couldn't stand anyone knowing."

"Mate, I'm so sorry," Ron croaked. "I should have realised. You never shower or change in front of us lads. You shouldn't have had to go through that, especially alone."

"It's ok," Harry reassured his friends. "I'm away from that now. I'm coping. I've got some good friends at New Beginnings, and had some great help from the counsellor."

"That's one good thing," Hermione sniffed, sitting up. "And the bastards are going to get what's coming to them in court."

"Why don't you bring them to court here in the Wizarding world?" Ron asked. "I've heard that the muggle justice system isn't always that good. At least here, you can work out who's telling the truth easily enough."

Harry shook his head.

"They're already being processed in the muggle system, it would seem strange that I've suddenly dropped the charges against them," he said. "Besides, no matter how bad the muggle justice system is, there's too much evidence against them. They've no chance of getting off. Simon's never lost a case that he's taken on for a New Beginnings client. There's plenty of forensic evidence to support me, plus Angelica, the doctor at New Beginnings, and my friends' statements. There's no way any of the Dursleys can win the case."

Ron nodded, and Harry, feeling tired, yawned widely. Immediately Hermione insisted that he get some rest.

"Ok, night," Harry smiled, letting her tuck him in, and accepting another hug, which Ron uncharacteristically joined in on, before slipping happily into the darkness.

A/N: Well, that was it! Hope you liked it! Please review!

Len


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything from Harry Potter. I just own Brad, Joanya, Mike and New Beginnings. The songs belong to either Green Day or Ani DiFranco.

A/N: Hey! I'm sorry that it took me a while to update this, I've been working on some other things, and I've had a bit going on. I'll try to update sooner from now on though. Hope that you like this one as much as the other chapters! Please review!

**Ch. 5.**

Harry woke up the next morning in a relatively good mood. He had a free period first, before Potions after break, and decided not to go to breakfast, instead staying in bed.

"You coming, mate?" Ron asked from the door.

"No," Harry replied. "I'm going to stay here. I'll grab something from the kitchen before Potions."

"Well, if you're sure…"

Harry could see that Ron was nervous about leaving him. He smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry about me," he said. "I just want some time alone before facing all the rumours."

"Ok," Ron looked more cheerful. "I'll see you in class, yeah?"

"Yeah."

After Ron left with the other boys, the dorm was quiet. Harry lay for a moment, thinking. He knew that the whole school would have heard about the incident yesterday and would be making assumptions as to what had caused it. He hoped that none of the rumours had gotten too close to the truth, however that was unlikely. Rumours in Hogwarts tended to be a little wilder than that. Harry had trouble believing that anybody actually found them true.

Sitting up, Harry sighed. He felt like playing his guitar, but he didn't know what to play. He didn't want to play any of his own songs, as they would remind him of what he was trying to forget. He only really played them for stress relief, or to rid himself of pain. He wasn't feeling too bad today, and wanted to keep himself upbeat, rather than put himself on a downer.

Grabbing his guitar from the end of the bed, he carefully opened the case and placed his beloved instrument across his blanket-covered knee, strumming a few random chords. A Green Day song came to him, and he began to play part of _Tales From Another Broken Home_, his voice joining his guitar.

_To live and not to breathe_

_Is to die in tragedy_

_To run, to run away to find what to believe_

_And I leave behind this hurricane of fucking lies_

_I lost my faith to this, this town that don't exist_

_So I run, I run away_

_To the light of masochists_

_And I leave behind this hurricane of fucking lies_

_And I walked this line a million and one fucking times_

_But not this time_

Harry played that the mid section, lost to the music, before launching back into the vocals

_I don't feel any shame, I won't apologise_

_When there ain't nowhere you can go_

_Running away from pain when you've been victimised_

_Tales from another broken home_

Finishing off the last few notes, Harry paused. He'd liked this song the first time he'd heard it. He'd been in a music shop with the others and had heard the whole_ Jesus of Suburbia_ medley and had immediately bought the album based on the ending of the song. He felt connected to the music through those lyrics. That was why he liked song writing. You could pour your soul into music. It was a total expression of yourself. And people understood it the way they wouldn't if you just said what you were feeling.

Deciding to continue with Green Day, Harry began playing the intro to _When September Ends._ Taking a breath, he began to sing.

_Summer has come and passed_

_The innocent can never last_

_Wake me up when September ends_

Harry's eyes drifted closed as he flowed through the music. It was bliss.

Wake me up when September ends 

Without even pausing at the end of the song, Harry changed tempo to _Boulevard of Broken Dreams_.

As the last few notes died away, Harry glanced at the clock. It was nearly time for break. Putting his guitar away, Harry made his way to the bathroom to shower. Finishing his daily routine, Harry dressed in a pair of baggy black pants that hugged his hips, accentuating his backside, and a white long sleeved top underneath a pale blue t-shirt. Grabbing his bag, he left the dorm and made his way down to the kitchen. The bell tolled as he tickled the pear, and he slipped behind the door.

"Master Harry Potter, sir!" squealed Dobby, flinging himself at Harry. "Dobby is so pleased to see Master!"

"Thanks Dobby," Harry smiled. "I'm glad to see you too."

"What can Dobby be doing for Master Harry Potter?" the elf bounced happily.

"I'd just like something for breakfast," the Gryffindor replied.

"Of course!"

Dobby sped off and returned moments later with a tray laden with food. Grabbing an apple and a buttered scone, Harry thanked the elves and set off for Potions, munching as he went.

Arriving at the door, he leant against the wall. Finishing the scone, he started his apple as the others began to arrive.

"Are you ok, Harry?" Hermione asked as soon as she stood beside him.

"Yeah, I just didn't feel like getting up earlier," the raven boy admitted. "Too many whispers. Plus I wanted to play my guitar."

"That's ok then," Ron grinned, but Hermione looked disapproving again. The boys knew that she was about to start lecturing them on work ethics and wisely shut up.

The door to Snape's classroom creaked open, and they filed silently inside. Harry saw immediately that his bag had been placed on the desk in the same spot as it was yesterday. Resigning himself to his fate, Harry sat down next to Malfoy.

When the class had settled, Snape glared at them from behind his desk.

"Begin," was all that he said, and the class scrambled to obey.

Harry collected his and Malfoy's mandrake leaves from the store cupboard, and then flicked through his book to read the next stage. Carefully, he and the Slytherin collected the ingredients needed to create the base solution for the potion.

As they began the preparation work, Harry decided to apologise for yesterday. It wasn't fair to leave the blond with the work.

"I'm sorry for running out yesterday," he said. "I just had a-a problem."

"Yeah, I noticed," Malfoy sneered in return. "I saw you cut your finger. You panicked didn't you? You've never had a cut in your life, so you needed to run to Pomfrey to get it fixed."

"I've had more cuts than you would think," Harry replied. "And I didn't get it healed. See?"

He held up his hand, and Draco could clearly see the thin red line caused by the knife. Looking into Harry's eyes, he decided not to ask what had happened when he saw the deep pain within the bright green orbs.

Harry soon found himself getting hot in the stuffy dungeon. Rolling up his sleeves, he began to grind the Bicorn horn, ready to add to the bubbling cauldron.

"What's that?" Draco's voice was sharp as he leant across Harry to stare at his arm.

Afraid that the Slytherin had seen his scars, Harry looked down. Luckily, his arm was turned away from Draco, shadowed by the mortar, and what had caught the boy's eye was the green and black dagger on his right forearm.

"It's a tattoo," Harry replied, nonplussed.

"Why do you have a dagger as a tattoo?" Draco was examining it with interest.

"To remind me."

"Of what?" Draco glanced up.

Before Harry could decide whether or not to reply, Hermione shoved her way in between them.

"Harry Potter!" she hissed, hands on hips. "What did you think you were doing, getting a tattoo? Don't you know it's illegal?"

Harry sighed.

"I wanted to get a tattoo for my own reasons, and it's not illegal to get a tattoo before you're eighteen when you have a guardian's permission. Which, I had," he responded reasonably.

Hermione deflated slightly and returned to her own table, but Harry knew that she'd be angry with him for a while. Turning back to the potion, ignoring Draco's questioning stare.

After the lesson finished, Harry headed off to lunch with the others, chatting happily about the upcoming Quidditch season.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

The rest of the day passed well, the incident from yesterday seemingly forgotten by the student body. Returning to Gryffindor Tower after dinner, Harry sat with Ron and Hermione to study, though the girl hadn't spoken to him since Potions. Completing their homework, the trio bade each other goodnight and headed to their respective dorms.

"I can't believe that you let Hermione find out that you have a tattoo!" Ron laughed.

"I didn't exactly plan it," Harry huffed good-naturedly. "It was Malfoy's fault."

"True."

"Well," Harry smirked. "If she was this mad over one tattoo, I'll be careful not to let her know that I actually have three!"

"Three?"

Harry nodded.

"You are too cool!" Ron laughed.

Harry nodded absently and glanced around.

"Listen, I'm going to go out for a while. I've got my note from Dumbledore, so I think that I'll go find a classroom to practise my guitar in," Harry picked said instrument up and headed to the door.

"Ok, mate," Ron smiled. "Don't forget I'm here if you need me."

"I'll be fine," Harry felt grateful for his friend's support.

Wandering the halls, Harry made his way to an old abandoned classroom on the fourth floor. Sitting on an old dusty desk, he pulled out his guitar and began to strum a few chords.

Soon, he settled into a familiar rhythm, playing one of his meaningless songs.

_Don't ask me why I'm crying_

_I'm not gonna tell you what's wrong_

Slipping away into the world of music, Harry didn't hear the door open, or realise it when someone sat next to him.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Draco was wandering the halls on his prefect rounds when he heard music coming from one of the old Charms classrooms. Curiosity about the owner of that hauntingly sweet voice forced him to open the door, revealing Harry Potter sitting on a table, playing a guitar.

Moving further into the room, closing the door behind him, Draco sat down next to Harry. The boy's eyes were closed, and he obviously had registered that he was no longer alone. Draco waited for the last few notes to die away before speaking.

"You do know that I could report you for being out after curfew?"

Harry jumped at the sound of his voice, turning shadowed eyes on his own.

"I would simply show the note Dumbledore gave me, which gives me permission to be out after curfew to whichever teacher you told," he replied.

"Why did he give you permission?" Draco asked.

"To give me space and time alone," was the reply.

"Why do need time alone?"

"Why do you care?" Harry asked, an eyebrow raised.

"I'm curious," Draco shrugged.

Harry regarded him.

"Why should I trust you?" he asked.

"I went to Dumbledore this summer for protection," Draco's reply was given without reservation. "My mother tried to make me become a Death Eater. I can't kill people. I don't want to die, so I ran. I know all about the Order, and I know how much of a flap they were in over you this summer."

Harry nodded, he could see in Draco's eyes that that was the truth.

"I need time alone to think, and remember," he answered the blond's earlier question.

They were silent a moment as Harry packed up his guitar, the urge to play gone for now.

"What do you need a dagger tattoo to remind you of?" Draco asked again.

Harry strode to the door, opening it deliberately slowly. Draco wondered if he was ever going to get an answer to the question burning in his mind.

In the doorway, Harry turned, having made up his mind.

"This," he answered, pulling up his left sleeve.

Draco's grey eyes had barely enough time to focus on the healing scars before Harry dropped his sleeves, and disappeared.

A/N: Well, I hope that you liked it! Sorry again for the delay in posting! Please review!

Love,

Len


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything from Harry Potter, nor do I make any money from this story.

A/N: Sorry that it's been so long since I updated, I've been distracted by my other projects. I did mean to get this typed up before Christmas, but with work and preparing to go away, I didn't get time. I hope everyone had a really good holiday, whatever you celebrate! I did! My journey back was hellish though. I was on the train. I left the station on time this morning, then a lady was taken ill, so we got delayed, but obviously I don't blame her, it wasn't her fault, but we kept on getting pushe held back entering stations by the trains supposed to be on the track at the time. So, in the end, we were an hour late, and I'd missed my connection. I got another train going to the same place, but that got delayed because at the first station, someone had pulled the emergency brake handle, then at the second station, the train staff decided that we couldn't leave until some of the passengers got off because there were so many on board. Finally, I reached the last station, and had to wait forty-five minutes for my last train, followed by a twenty minute walk home.

What made it worse, was that my first train was so packed that not only were the aisles filled, but at in the small door compartments (where I was), there wasn't room to move- literally. People kept trying to get on at all the stops, too. It was clearly full, and people were still trying to push their way on, and those already there were crushed! It was ridiculous! My second train was no better. Again, it was packed, and I was left to stand in the door compartment. I managed to sit on the floor for the twenty minutes between two of the stops, but soon had to stand to allow more people on. Then, because it was raining, I had to stand to wait for my next train. So that was three and a half hours stood on one train, twenty minutes sitting on the floorof another train, an hour standing on the same train, forty-five minutes standing on a platform and a twenty minute walk. I was glad to get home!

So, all in all, I have learnt three things today. 1. If I am reincarnated as a Sardine, I will commit suicide to avoid the horror of the squashed can 2. Train stations have more rubbish on the tracks than trains 3. Your feet hurt after standing up the whole journey home from the other end of the country.

I do not advise attempting to confirm my words as true. Trust my knowledge and allow it to help you in future journeys.

Anyway, enough of my babble. On with the show!

**Ch. 6.**

The boys in the dorm were still asleep when Harry woke the next morning with a sense of dread. He had decided last night that he was going to tell the Weasleys and Remus about the Dursleys today. It would be difficult, and he knew Mrs. Weasley would likely overpower him with emotion, but it had to be done. It was unfair to keep it from them any longer. Especially now he'd given Malfoy a hint. He wasn't sure why he'd shown the blond his scars. Something, some instinct told him to trust his old rival.

After showering and dressing in his favourite baggy jeans and a long sleeved green t-shirt, he headed down to the kitchens for some breakfast. The houselves were more than happy to serve him, and attempted to supply him with enough food to last for two whole days. Politely declining, and choosing only a bowl of his favourite cereal and a goblet of pumpkin juice, Harry ate quickly before making his way up to Dumbledore's office. The headmaster was never present in the great hall at breakfast at weekends, leaving Harry to assume that he remained in his office.

Reaching the gargoyle, Harry guessed the password and stepped onto the spiral staircase. At the top, he hesitated before knocking firmly.

"Come in," was the reply.

Entering the office, Harry took comfort in the tiny whirring and clinking sounds coming from the various objects standing on the little tables. Sitting in the squishy chintz chair across from the old headmaster, Harry took a deep breath.

"I would like to see Remus and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley today, if that's possible," he whispered. "I think that you're right about not leaving it too long before telling them."

"I can quite easily firecall them for you, if you would like?" Dumbledore smiled. "I'll set up a meeting for after lunch, if that is acceptable?"

"Yes, thank you," Harry replied.

"How are you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked kindly. "I hope these last few days haven't been too much of a strain for you?"

"No, it's been okay," Harry shrugged. "Just have to take it one day at a time. The knife incident was the most difficult, but I dealt with it. All the advise I got from my counsellor is helping. I can always write to her if I need some more. And my friends from New Beginnings and I are writing to each other using the inter-post system between the muggle and magical worlds. Everything takes time, especially healing from something like this, but I like to think I'm getting there. I have to think positive and stay strong. It's the only way."

"You are very wise for a boy your age, Harry," Dumbledore was proud. "I want you to know that I'm here for you if you need me."

"Thanks, sir," Harry nodded.

"Now, I'm sure that you have things to do," Dumbledore smiled. "Come here to my office at two o'clock, and I will have arranged your meeting."

Harry thanked the old wizard, and left to find his friends.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

By the time that lunchtime arrived, Harry was unable to sit still. Fidjiting on the blanket he, Ron and Hermione had spread by the lake for a picnic, he felt the nerves bubble up in his stomach.

"We can come with you if you want," Hermione offered. "For some moral support."

"No, thank you," Harry declined. "I think it's better if I do it alone."

"I really think it would help you," Hermione pressed. "We wouldn't get in the way."

"Yeah," Ron chimed in. "We could provide silent support!"

"I said no!" Harry snapped. "It's going to be difficult enough. I'm sorry, but I don't want you there! I want to do this alone."

Hermione looked affronted, and Ron scowled.

"There's no need to snap," he muttered. "We're only trying to help."

The picnic was finished in silence.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Arriving at Dumbledore's office, Harry entered to find only the headmaster.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore smiled. "Right on time. Molly has offered to hold the meeting at the Burrow, if that is fine with you. Remus was invited for lunch."

"That's fine, yeah," Harry replied.

"Would you like me to accompany you?" the old wizard asked.

"No, thank you, I'll be fine," Harry shook his head.

"Very well," Dumbleodre nodded. "The Floo Powder is in the pot on the mantle. Good luck."

Harry nodded and took the powder. Stepping into the fireplace, he threw it down and called out his destination.

He whirled through the dizzying network and finally stumbled out of the fireplace at the Burrow, coughing. Mrs. Weasley was there to greet him.

"Harry dear!" she enfolded him in a hug. "It's lovely to see you! Where have you been all summer? We were worried!"

"I'll explain when we're all together, Mrs. Weasley, I promise," Harry replied, pulling back.

She released him.

"Well, let's go into the living room," she smiled. "Arthur and Remus are in there. Then you can explain yourself, young man!"

Harry followed her through to the other room, and after greeting the two men, he settled down on the couch, and began to tell his tale.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

By the end of it, Mrs. Weasley was sobbing furiously while her husband tried to comfort her, and Remus sat in an armchair with a face like thunder.

"How dare they do that to you," he growled. "They must be punished!"

"Please, don't do anything Remus!" Harry begged. "They're going to get what's coming to them. I'm away from them now, and I'm healing. Leave it be."

"But Harry!" Molly wailed. "They hurt you! It's so horrible!"

"I know, but it's over now," Harry tried to soothe her.

"Harry, this has probably been suggested to you," Arthur began. "But why don't you transfer the case to the wizard courts. It would be resolved sooner, and the punishment would most likely be harsher. And I would love to see them punished severely for they have done to you."

"It was suggested, but I don't want to," Harry hung his head. "The case is in progress, and is likely to be resolved within the year, and it's all part of the healing process. Also, if I transferred it to the wizard courts, it would most definiately get into the press, and I don't want everyone knowing."

"I understand," Arthur nodded.

"I will respect your wish, Harry," Remus agreed. "But if I ever get my hands on them..."

Molly remained inconsolable, and Harry left as soon as he could.

Arriving at Hogwarts, he spent a moment chatting to the headmaster, before retreating to his dorm. Several times, Ron and Hermione tried to coax him out, but Harry refused to leave.

He spent the evening strumming quietly on his guitar with no real aim. Later, he pulled on the invisibility cloak and slipped out of the dorms, heading to the kitchens for some food before returning to bed.

HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM

Draco was getting annoyed. He had been looking for Harry since Friday night, and there had been no sign of the dark haired boy. He wanted to talk to the boy about what he'd been shown on Friday, but it seemed that Harry had dropped off the face of the planet.

By dinner on Sunday, Draco had given up searching, as Harry had not even come to a single meal for the entire weekend. Wandering the halls on his rounds, Draco was considering going to bed, and trying to talk to the Gryffindor the next day in class, when he heard quiet guitar strums coming from an old classroom. Shaking his head, he cursed himself. He should have known to check here. This was where he'd seen the Boy-Who-Lived on Friday.

Opening the door, he leaned on the frame, watching the boy sitting on the desk. The gentle strums of Harry's guitar suddenly changed to a tune that Draco didn't recognise. Moments later, Harry began to sing.

_You broke me bodily,_

_The heart ain't the half of it,_

_And I'll never learn to laugh at it_

_In my good natured way._

_In fact I'm laughing less in general._

_But I learned a lot at my own funeral,_

_And I knew you'd be the death of me,_

_So I guess that's the price I pay._

The notes Harry was coaxing from the guitar were harsh and strong, even as his voice slurred the notes he was singing together. Draco couldn't help but respect the boy for his obvious talent.

_I'm trying to make new memories_

_In cities where we fell in love,_

_My head just barely above_

_The darkest water I've ever known._

_You had me in that cage,_

_You had me jumpin through those hoops for you._

_Still, I think I'd stoop for you,_

_Stoop for your eyes alone._

_From that bombshell moon in yet another lovely dress,_

_To the deep mahogany sheen of a roach,_

_I am trying to take an appreciative approach_

_To life in your wake._

_I focus on the quiet now,_

_And occasionally I'll fall asleep somehow._

_And emptyness has it's solace_

_In that there's nothing left to take._

When the notes died away, Draco spoke.

"That was good."

Harry turned and stared steadily at him for a few moments.

"Thanks."

"Muggle song, I take it?" Draco pushed himself off the doorframe and stepped fully inside, closing the door behind him.

"Not really...I wrote it myself," Harry shrugged.

"It's good," Draco reiterated. "Though I'd never have taken you for the dark and depressing type."

"There's a lot about me people don't know," Harry strummed a few more chords as Draco sat next to him.

"I've been looking for you," the blond's whisper broke into his thoughts. "Couldn't find you anywhere."

"I've been busy this weekend," Harry shrugged, turning to look at him. "What did you want."

"To talk to you," Draco replied.

"About what?"

"Those scars you showed me," Draco watched as understanding dawned on Harry's face.

"Ah," he nodded, twisting to his other side to put his guitar away. Satisfied it was secure, he turned back. "What about them?"

"They were self-inflicted, weren't they?" Draco asked the first thing that came to mind.

"Yes," Harry confirmed it.

"Why did you do it?" the Slytherin couldn't understand how anyone could do that to themselves.

"Because it helped me to gain control," Harry always had trouble explaining his reasons. He was too used to talking to people who understood why a person would turn to self harm, and the addiction that came with it. "I had a lot of overwhelming feelings inside me. It was too much for me to cope with, and I had no one to talk to about it. I had to get all the pain out somehow, and it seemed like cutting was the only way I could take control of it."

He pulled his sleeve up and stared at the scars.

"I only did it once or twice at the beginning, but it felt so good," he continued. "A lot of people don't realise that self harm is actually addictive. The rush of relief after the release of emotion is wonderful, especially when there's loads of stuff pent up. Afterwards, your head feels really clear, and everything's just better. That's why it's addictive.

"It doesn't help that I've got a slightly addictive personality. Anything that gives a rush-flying, cutting-once I've tasted it, I can't help but to crave it. It's just unfortunate that I chose a method of dealing that I'd get addicted to. Something so dangerous. Typical Gryffindor."

A pale finger ran gently down his arm, tracing the scars softly.

"I didn't expect anything different from you, Golden Boy," he joked.

"Thank you for listening," Harry smiled, looking up into grey eyes. "Most people who don't understand are disgusted by it, or pity me. They don't listen long enough to let me explain. I've only really talked to people who know about cutting, because I never feel comfortable discussing it with thise who don't."

"I never thought I'd hear you say there was something you felt comfortable talking to me about!" Draco laughed.

"I never thought I'd say it!" Harry laughed as well.

"We'd better get back to our dorms," Draco said, as they calmed down. "It's getting late and there're classes tomorrow."

Harry agreed, and picked up his guitar case. Bidding Draco goodnight, he walked towards Gryffindor Tower, his heart lighter than it had been since returning to school.

A/N: Well, was it worth the wait? I hope so! Please review!

Love,

Len


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any money from this story.

A/N: Hey! I'm sorry that it's been so long, but I'm back. Complete with new laptop! Yay! So happy.I love my 'puter! So, here's the next chapter of New Beginnings, I hope it was worth the wait!

**Warning: **Some people may find some of this chapter content upsetting.

**Ch. 7.**

_"You're nothing but a whore, Freak!" the purple-faced beefy man yelled, towering over his prone body._

_Harry lay naked on the floor, bleeding from the wounds to his stomach. _

_"Look at you, you're pathetic!" Vernon continued, giving him a few harsh kicks to the back. "And you're bleeding on the carpet!"_

_"I-I'm s-sorry, U-Uncle," Harry stuttered through chattering teeth. The pain was overwhelming, and he felt faint. He'd lost a lot of blood, that vital red liquid that was pupmed around his body by the broken heart in his chest. _

_"Sorry?!" Vernon scoffed. "Not yet, but you will be."_

_He dropped the large knife on the floor with a clatter, his hands moving to his fly. _

_"Such a pretty little whore," he muttered, his trousers dropping around his ankles._

_Reaching down, he turned his nephew onto his stomach, ignoring the whimper of pain as his stomach wound pressed into the blood soaked carpet. _

_Shuddering, Harry felt his uncle lower himself down to lie between his spread legs. A hand ran mockingly down his back, and Harry knew instinctively that the man was admiring the whip lines he'd left there with his belt over the years. _

_Finally, agonisingly, Vernon pushed in, resting his entire weight on Harry as he moaned at the sensation of being sheathed in Harry's arse. After a few minutes, Harry whimpered, and tried to shift in order to relieve some of the weight on his newest wound. Vernon was angered at having his moment interrupted. He plached a hand square between his nephew's shoulder blades and pushed him into the carpet. At the same time, he lifted himself up to allow himself room to move._

_Harry turned his head in order to breathe, and found himself face to face with the knife that had been weilded against him so callously not that much time earlier. He studied it, taking in the sharp edge, stained with the same bright red fluid still steadily escaping his stomach. The black handle was sticky from a few drips that had landed on it, and the blunt edge of the blade gleamed silver where it showed through the blood. _

_Harry's eyes devoured every detail of the blade as he tried to ignore the grunting coming from his monsterous uncle, the searing pain caused by the organ pumping in and out of him, and the feel of the carpet fibres grinding into his cuts as he was jerked forwards and back by the force of his uncle's thrusts. _

_After an eternity, Vernon shuddered, thrust in deeper than before, and came, groaning loudly. Once again, he rested his full weight on Harry for a few minutes, before pulling out with a groan and standing up. There was a rustling sound as he fixed his clothing, then Harry felt his beady eyes glaring steadily at his back._

_"Clean up this mess," the man growled. "I want every speck of blood gone before your aunt gets back from the shop."_

_He thundered out of the small room, and slammed the door with brutal force._

Harry jerked upright, gasping. The dorm was pitch black and filled with the snoring of the other boys. Panting heavily, Harry clutched his stomach. The nightmare wasn't just a dream. It was a memory.

Rubbing across the t-shirt covered scar, Harry pushed back the covers and headed for the bathroom to shower away the sweat.

----

Far away, in Surrey, Vernon Dursley was also dreaming about that day.

_// DREAM //_

_Running a caressing hand down the lines of varying shades of pink on the boy's back, Vernon admored the beauty of the destruction of purity. _

_Positioning himself. he pushed into the uprepared hole, resting his considerable mass on the frail frame beneath him as he basked in the feeling of supreme power over the weak and innocent boy. Beneath him, Harry made a soft sound, and shifted slightly, obviously wanting Vernon to move. Unhappy that his moment of perfection had passed, the walrus like man levered himself up, pressing on the boy's back to keep him in place, and began a series of short, fast thrusts._

_It was delicious, the heat and tightness of the passage. Vernon grunted in pleasure and exertion, ignoring the laboured breathing beneath his hand. The Freak was clearly enjoying himself._

_As he began to build to his climax, Vernon sped up, finally thrusting deep into the willing body below him, riding waves of pleasure._

_Resting himself on the Freak's back to catch his breath, Vernon marvelled once again at how he came to be in this situation. He'd first fucked the Freak because he'd been trying to get rid of the boy's Unnaturalness by giving it what it wanted. For years it had been calling out to him, whispering in his mind all the lovely things he could do to the Freak, telling him of the pleasures the young, innocent body could bring. _

_At first, Vernon had been strong. He'd ignored it, remained loyal to his wife, holding himself to the vow he had made her on the day she'd stood in front of him in that frilly white dress. But as time passed, the whispers became calls, the calls became shouts, and the day the boy received his acceptance letter to That School, the shouts had risen to a crescendo that could not be drowned out by anything._

_So he'd given in. He'd at least had the decency to wait until his wife and son had gone out, then he'd taken the boy brutally in the hallway. He'd thought that if he could cause the boy pain, he'd show the Unnaturalness that he wanted nothing to do with it. If he could break it, there would be nothing to hold him, no voices in his mind, tempting him away from the woman he loved. _

_His plan had not succeeded. _

_It seemed as if the boy liked pain, and once it had gotten a taste of him, the Unnaturalness had tightened it's hold. Vernon found himself craving the Freak more and more. His thoughts were constantly centered around him. He even found himself thinking of the Freak while he was away at That School and while Vernon was in bed with Petunia. So he'd stopped making love to her, feeling that he was betraying their bond as he was under the Freak's hold._

_He was never sure if his wife knew something was going on between him and the boy, but she did turn nastier towards the Freak after that. _

_Finally feeling strong enough to move after such a powerful orgasm, Vernon pulled himself out of the Freak's heaving body and tidied himself up. Glaring down at the disgusting Freak who'd turned him into a vile, cheating, man-lover, Vernon ordered the boy to clean up the mess before Petunia came home, and slammed the door behind him on the way out._

_He felt horrified at himself for once again folding to tempation, but he knew he'd be back later. He'd beat the Freak again, revenge for this enchantment, but then, in a day or two, he'd crumble again, and allow the Unnaturalness to take control of him once more._

_// END DREAM //_

Waking slowly with a throbbing erection, Vernon took in his dimly lit prison cell. The dream was a memory from a few years ago, but it was still as vivid in his mind as the day it occurred.

Shifting to a more comfortable position on the hard, narrow bed, Vernon slipped a hand down into his trousers. Although the Freak had gone to the authorities with lies about rape, his Unnaturalness had not let up it's hold on Vernon. He craved the familiar warm body, and the pleasure it gave. It was a horrible situation, but Vernon knew that once the Freak gave up on this little power game, he would forgive him, The Unnaturalness would see to that.

Closing his eyes once more, the fat man indulged himself in thoughts of his past encounters with the Freak.

----

Harry was the first student to arrive at breakfast. The nightmare had shaken him up, and after his shower, he'd been unable to face the prospect of going back to bed. It was four in the morning, but he'd gone to the library, Dumbledore's note tucked safely in his pocket.

He'd quickly settled into a chair in the Potions section and had started to reseach his coursework. He wanted to prove to Snape that he could do well at the subject, so he threw himself into finding ideas for improving the Braxen Solution, and also noting down previous attempts at alterations.

By the time the sun came up, he had a whole parchment of notes, and his stomach felt like it was trying to eat itself. Arriving at the Great Hall, he seated himself at the end of the Gryffindor table, nodding cordially at Dumbledore and Snape as they chatted together at the top table, being the first two teachers to arrive.

After a long, hearty breakfast, the raven haired boy made his way to class early since Ron and Hermione were still eating. It felt nice to be free of them. Not in a nasty way, but he felt akward around them after the fight the other day. They didn't really understand him, and what he'd been through. In their own way, they were coddling him, trying to ease their own guilt for not noticing by being over protective and supportive.

Sitting at the bench he shared with Malfoy, Harry pulled out his Potions text and notes before setting up the cauldron and ingredients for the next stage of the Braxen Solution.

He was just preparing to read over his notes a second time when a barn owl swept into the room. It landed in front of him, and Harry realised that he'd left the Great Hall before the post had arrived. Untying the letter from the bird's leg, Harry thanked the creature and unfolded the paper as it flew off.

_Dear Harry, _read Joanya's neat script.

_We hope that you're ok, and forgive you for opening the present on the train. We figured that you'd do that anyway. _

_We're sorry to hear about your teachers, but I'm sure that things will die down soon. It was a shock for them, remember, they need time to adjust. They'll soon feel better about it._

_Mike says that you should hex them if they don't stop whinging soon, but personally, I don't think that's a good idea._

_We miss you loads, and can't wait to see you again. NB just isn't the same without you. I don't know how we survived before you came! _

_Also, we're so pleased that you finished 'Swim'. You've been working on it for days. I can't wait to hear it, you really are talented. Have you started on any other songs yet? Please say that you have, it's always exciting to hear new songs you've written._

_How are you're lessons going? We're so interested to hear about what you're learning._

_Brad wants to know what happened with that Snape fellow. He says he'll beat him up if needs be. And also, how's it going with Malfoy? Is he as bad as you thought he'd be?_

_Best of luck, be safe and well!_

_Love,_

_Brad, Mike and Jo._

_xxx_

There was a post script that was written in a different hand, but Harry recognised it well. It was from Simon, the New Beginnings solicitor.

_P.S. Harry, the date for Dudley's trial has come through for the 1st of November. You'll need to come down for it, as you'll be needed on the Stand. Get in touch to arrange the details, please. I'd like it if you could come down the day before so that we can discuss what's going to happen. Thanks. _

_Take care,_

_Simon_

"You look tired," Harry jumped at the voice sounding next to him. He'd been so absorbed in the letter he hadn't noticed the other students entering the room.

Looking up, he saw Draco'sraised eyebrow.

"Just didn't sleep well," he mumbled in answer, hurriedly folding the letter and slipping it into his jeans pocket. He wasn't sure how he felt about the news of the trial date. He knew that the case was being pushed through quickly because of how serious a crime it was, and the fact that Dudley was staying in a home with other young kids. Partly, he felt relief that it was soon, but he also felt terror because he wasn't sure he was ready to stand face to face with his cousin and tell of the things that had happened between them.

"What's the matter?" the blond asked, seeing his distress.

"Just a nightmare, then some big news," the raven boy was relieved when Snape began the class, it meant that Draco would stop asking questions.

The Slytherin wasn't put off though, and brought up the subject again while they were brewing.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"Could you pass the Valerian roots, please?" Harry asked, avoiding the question.

"Is it something to do with those?" Draco pushed, nodding at Harry's bare forearms, having rolled up his sleeves again, and the Gryffindor knew he wasn't talking about the tattoo.

"Look, not here, ok?" the younger boy hissed. "Later. The usual room."

Again, he wasn't sure why he felt the urge to confide in Draco Malfoy, but something deep inside, some gut instinct that had never failed him before said that he could trust the taller boy.

"Time?" Draco asked, clearly not wanting to let go without some sort of promise that he would get the answers he sought.

"Nine o'clock," Harry answered, wondering why the other was so interested. "But now, while the potion simmers, can we please look at some ideas I've got for adapting it. I'd like your opinion, since you're better than me at this."

The blond gave the potion a final stir, then bent his head over the Gryffindor Seeker's messy notes.

----

Nine o'clock came around, and Draco found himself standing outside the door to the abandoned classroom. Tonight he was going to get some answers. All last night thoughts of Harry had been going round in his head, whirling at the speed of light. He found himself wondering what kind of pain could drive him to self harm. Surely not Voldemort? Harry always seemed so sure of himself when it came to that particular problem.

Well, he was determined not to leave, or let Harry escape without at least the answer to that question. It was obvious something huge was happening to the Boy-Who-Lived, and though he didn't know why he cared, Draco knew that he did, and he wanted to help the other boy get through it.

Taking a deep breath, he reached for the handle. Turning it, he pushed the door open.

A/N: Well, I hope that was ok for the first chapter in a while. Please review and let me know if it was worth the wait!

Love,

Len


End file.
